


Still Not The Same

by redfiona



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Blow Job, M/M, Prompt Fic, late prompt fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfiona/pseuds/redfiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was 1966, and all of England seemed to be cheering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Not The Same

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt - "Nine/Jack, Another night, another dream, but always you." for the Doctor Who/Torchwood pornbattle 2008 - but it spun away from prompt and is rather late. So thank you to the person who left the prompt and sorry this is so late.

It was 1966, and all of England seemed to be cheering. Jack was trying to get very drunk in the aftermath of a failed operation. It had been a mess, even by Torchwood's high standards, and he was going to have to write the kind of reports he most disliked. But not tonight.

Tonight he was going to blast his brains to smithereens with booze. This was being aided by the other pub customers who seemed to be buying rounds for everyone.

There was one particularly loud occupant in the other corner, and Jack was just drunk enough to turn around and ask if he would mind shutting up. Only he didn't get the chance, because the idiot had a friend who was shushing him, and ... Jack couldn't help staring at the friend, who started to blush.

It was the ears. And the chin. A dangerous sharpness to him. He could imagine the Doctor looking like that twenty years ago, if the Doctor had been human. Jack couldn't help himself, and, if he were honest, he wasn't trying hard to resist, even though he knew he'd be disappointed. That was the problem with chasing shadows.

A few well timed pints later and they were in a locked toilet cubicle.

"'Name's Jim, James."

"Jack." Jack went down to his knees, and quickly brought Jim off, amid much small talk, more like babbling from sweet, dim Jim, who could have been the Doctor's double, but couldn't have been more different from him. Haste made Jack sloppy in his movements, but he had to be quick, he couldn't let Jim be exposed. He had no idea what Jim's particular circumstances were, but Jack had escaped enough raids and round-ups in this time period to know that what they were doing was dangerous, for Jim. Jack would just get sprung from jail by Torchwood and retcon would be liberally applied to remove all trace of him from the prison system, but that wouldn't happen for Jim.

So Jack was careful.

And he was good. Some part of him thought of waiting a little while and then sticking retcon into one of Jim's drinks. It'd be safety of a sort, and he could pretend it was for Jim's own good. Jack decided not to, and assumed the beer would do the work for him. Yet he hoped, somewhere deep inside, that Jim would remember, a tiny speck of remembrance for Jack, someone who'd think warmly of him when they thought of him at all. Maybe they'd all add up, all the men who weren't quite him, and the Doctor would somehow sense that Jack needed, needed him to fix him and get him back to how he should be.


End file.
